


Do No Harm

by Meldy_Writes



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Plantbending, Reader-Insert, earthbender! reader, it's a zuko fic so that's a given, the story is also just little bits and pieces sewed together, this gets angsty a little bit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24993637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meldy_Writes/pseuds/Meldy_Writes
Summary: She was an earthbending Fire Nation prisoner with a background in medicine and a longing for adventure--his big metal warship needed a medic to run the clinic while he searched for the Avatar; they were destined to change each other's futures for the better. Or maybe, she was just destined to be his pawn.
Relationships: Zuko (Avatar)/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 112





	1. Apologies

**Author's Note:**

> ...I don't know what to tell you, it's back on Netflix so there's an Avatar Renaissance. I have daddy issues, so of course, I had a crush on Zuko. Here you go.

(y/n) had been on the Fire Nation Prince’s warship for approximately three months by her best estimate and though technically she was a prisoner, she had never felt so free. Most of the crew --save the few who held tighter to prejudice and pride than their own health and wellbeing--treated her with kindness and respect; she was the only woman on board after all, and the closest thing they had to a medic. She was often invited below deck to play card games with the rest of the soldiers and crew and during her shifts in the clinic, Iroh would bring tea and sit with her on her lunch break.

Still, being treated as a crew member and not a captive wasn’t what gave her a sense of freedom; it was the view from the deck of the ship. She loved watching the vibrant cultures at the ports they stopped at and had even been allowed to leave the ship and explore a few times when she needed supplies or herbs that the soldiers had trouble identifying (granted she had a retainer with her the whole time and she had to wear metal braces to keep her from using her bending; she was treated well, but she was still their captive). Sunsets were her favorite-- when the wide expanse of sky began to shift from blue to shades of pink and yellow and orange until finally it darkened and the stars came out, shining brighter than they ever did back in the earthbending prison she’d been in previously, though even then she saw more open sky there than she ever saw in her native village or in the dense forests where she studied medicine with plant benders. Although she supposed, you could probably see the sky perfectly there now as the dense canopy of trees had all been burned away when the fire nation found them and arrested them for bending.

She laments all this as she stares up at the sky, telling herself she isn’t procrastinating, and she’ll go and speak with the prince once the sun fully set. It was behind the horizon now, but there was still that last bit of light and the pink hadn’t fully faded from the clouds just yet, she still had time. A few days prior, she’d asked the lieutenant to make an announcement that the crew was due for a physical, and over the past two days, everyone aboard the ship but the prince had appeared in her clinic for a general checkup.

She knew it was her responsibility to make sure everyone was healthy and that eventually, she would have to speak with Prince Zuko and convince him to let her observe him, but frankly, she wasn’t too eager to be in the same room as him--let alone interact with him. She considers herself lucky that he’d practically ignored her thus far, having only made comments _about_ her and not _to_ her; comments like “I requested a doctor, not a little girl,” and “She’s a prisoner, not a crewmember. I won’t be forced to treat her like one; not on my own ship.”

He seemed an angry lad, far too serious and jaded considering he’s just sixteen-- only a year her senior. She assumes, with the way he presents himself that he and his father must be quite similar considering their shared nationalism and obsession with the Avatar and so she’d steered clear up until now, but she swore to herself she wouldn’t let fear keep her from doing her job; above all else she was a healer and whether she liked it or not the crew on this ship were her patients, Prince Zuko included.

“Enjoying the night air, Miss (y/n)?” She hears from behind her, the smell of jasmine tea wafting through her nostrils along with the deep and kind voice telling her exactly who’s behind her. She smiles to herself. General Iroh was the first person on board to be kind to her. In the beginning, she had not been given a warm welcome by any means. A man by the name of General Zhao had dragged her, metal braces concealing her arms, on to the ship, and shoved her to the deck at the prince’s feet.

“Here’s your healer,” he’d smirked, “straight from the Scorched Forests.”

Many of the crew muttered about women being ‘bad luck on boats’ while many of the soldiers refused to accept medical treatment from ‘Earth Kingdom Scum’. Zuko, for his part, had simply shifted his glare back and forth between the General and the girl holding her head as high as she could, keeping her lip stiff as she struggled to get to her feet. Only Iroh stepped forward, offering her a hand up and a warm smile. After some time, when the rest of the men began to notice the esteemed General Iroh treating her kindly most followed suit. Though whether they eventually became fond of her like it seems they have or they simply realized it was wiser to be kind to the one person capable of patching them up if they got injured is unknown to her, though she figures it matters little.

She turns away from the now fully dark sky, smiling in response to her companion’s greeting.

“I am. I need to clear my head and gather some courage before I go and speak to our illustrious leader,” she responds, letting out a shaky sigh as she realizes she is all out of excuses to put off going to see him.

“Prince Zuko is not as cold as he first appears, give him patience and half a chance, I’m sure he’ll warm up to you as the others have.”

“It’s him ‘warming up’ that I’m worried about, to be quite honest.” She had witnessed the prince’s hot-headed nature time and time again and had treated enough wounds and burns he’d given to soldiers he’d trained with to be fully aware that the prince being icy wasn’t the worst mood to catch him in.

“I can go with you if you like,” Iroh offers kindly, but she shakes her head, placing a hand on his shoulder in appreciation.

“No, I must do this myself. If I hide behind you every time I have to speak with him, I’ll never earn his respect,” she steps around him making her way towards the Royal Family’s quarters, “wish me luck.”

“Good luck.” Comes his chuckle on the wind, a wind that grows colder with each passing day as they make their way towards the South Pole, but it isn’t what has her shaking in her boots; not tonight.

Everyone knows that Prince Zuko checks their course for the day in the mornings, trains in the afternoons, and uses his free time throughout the day to brood at the horizon, but that after dinner he locks himself in his quarters and is not, under any circumstances, to be disturbed. Yet, here she is, one hand raised preparing to knock at the door, other hand clutching her quartz pendant to her chest—the one thing from her past that hadn’t been abandoned, sacrificed, or taken from her.

She holds it to her heart as if to draw some sort of power from it as she gathers the courage to knock, but before her knuckle even graces the metal of the door it swings open, and there she is, face to collarbone with the fire nation prince himself. She tilts her gaze up at him, trying not to turn tail and run to her little room below deck when she sees his look of pure reproach.

“Is there a reason you’re loitering outside of my room?”

“H-how did you know I was out here?” she stumbles--to say she’s intimidated would be an understatement.

“I saw the silhouette of your feet in the gap under the door.”

Right, of course, he did. She breaths in, then out. Steadying herself.

“Yes. Well. You still haven’t stopped by the clinic for a physical, I was-”

“I’m not injured. I don’t see a reason to take time out of my day for you to tell me I’m healthy, I must put all of my energy towards finding the Avatar.”

She clicked her tongue. That was all he ever talked about: Avatar this, and Avatar that, and ‘I’m too important to do anything other than finding the Avatar’. Truly, if she wasn’t certain he’d burn her to a crisp for it, she’d roll her eyes at him. She and the cook have gotten pretty good at doing impressions of him while his back is turned.

“Just because you look healthy doesn’t mean you are. There are several health risks that start out seemingly benign at first, some can even be undetectable if you don’t know what to look for. What would happen, I wonder, if you finally do find the Avatar but are unable to defeat him because of some unknown sickness that could have been completely avoided if you’d simply spared ten minutes sitting in the clinic?”

She feels the temperature began to rise, but she keeps herself grounded to the spot; trying her best to not look intimidated as he once again scrutinizes her, scanning her up and down. She isn’t sure if she’s sweating because of the prince or because of the heat surrounding him. Finally, he lets all the hair out of his lungs in a huff. It blows in her face and she scrunches her eyes closed, convinced for a moment it will turn to fire, but it does not. When she dares to open her eyes again, his gaze has shifted to the ceiling.

“My schedule is very busy.”

“I can understand that, Your Highness, but you seem to have free time during and after dinner, why not stop by the clinic tomorrow before you eat?”

He seems to consider her a moment, “Why not do it right now?”

“The clinic is locked up at night,” she tries to explain.

“You’re saying you don’t have access to the clinic?” he asks, seemingly taken aback, though she can’t fathom why. She offers up a sheepish smile, still fiddling with the quartz around her neck.

“I don’t believe they thought it wise to give a prisoner a set of keys.”

He blinks at her, some unknown thought obviously churning through the gears in his mind before he closes his door back in her face. She doesn’t know what reaction she’d been expecting, but that hadn’t been it. She’s almost about to turn around and leave when she hears shuffling, and then the door is once again open and the prince has a set of keys in his hand.

She steps back as he makes his way into the hallway, walking towards the clinic. She’s still rooted to the spot, but when he stops halfway down the hall to look back at her expectantly, she has no choice but to follow behind him.

…

(y/n)’s almost embarrassed by the state of the clinic when the prince takes in the chaos and disarray. It’s a small room, though there’s more space now that they moved her cot out and let her have her own little bedroom; when she’d first arrived, she’d been confined exclusively to the clinic-- even locked in overnight. Still, there were books and references and medical scrolls sprawled about, but for the most part, her medical cabinet was tidy, and the bench meant for patients was kept free of clutter.

“I wasn’t quite finished studying before I was taken prisoner,” she finds herself explaining, “and even still, I was taught to make soothing balms and antidotes for foolish travelers mistaking nightshade for blueberries, I was _not_ prepared for stitching war wounds and setting broken limbs. I spend most of my time on shift studying what little there is on board to study, I think I’m doing fairly well so far.”

It’s only after she notices that Zuko is sitting patiently, silently, on the patient’s bench that she realizes she’s rambling a little. She stops herself and suddenly there’s nothing but silence between them. She shifts into doctor mode, taking a clipboard from her desk and attaching a blank form to it that she will use to adjust his medical file as needed the next morning.

She runs through the motions, checking his reflexes, holding a lantern up to his eyes to watch how his pupils dilate, trying her best not to linger on the observation of just how strikingly golden they are, and how they seem to be observing her just as intently as she’s observing him.

“Do you find yourself getting abnormally winded when you train?” she asks softly, feeling like even speaking too loudly might break the unsettled calm and have him blowing up or storming off.

“No,” he answers firmly.

She nods, moving towards a scale and motioning for him to come and stand on it. He does so, and she records his height and weight before her next question.

“Can you remove your shirt, please?” Her eyes are fixed to the clipboard, recording the data she’d just taken when she asks this, but she looks back up at him as he splutters.

“What?” He’s incredulous, but she just raises a brow.

“It’s routine procedure, Your Highness, there are boxes I have to check and warning signs I have to look for, it’ll only be for a few minutes. Protesting over it just wastes both of our time.”

She’s relieved for the wall of professionalism she has to maintain, it keeps her from panicking about being so close to the prince of the nation that invaded and demolished hers when she can see him as just a patient; a body she has to check for abnormalities.

She swears the tips of his ears are pink as he removes his tunic, but she can’t afford to feel bashful herself, though even with the professional barrier, it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the fact that he was a well-built sixteen-year-old boy, and she was a healthy, warm-blooded teenager herself despite how quickly her medical training and imprisonment forced her to mature mentally.

She retrieves the tools needed and proceeds to check his blood pressure and heartbeat, keeping up a neutral mask as best she can despite how acutely she can feel his glare on her.

“You have an abnormal heartbeat,” she comments, “It’s faster than what’s considered healthy for someone your age.”

She feels him grunt against her instrument, “do you ever have fits where your chest constricts—or moments of heart pangs?”

“N-no?” he sounds hesitant; like he isn’t quite sure what the right answer is and decided to go with the one that would end the conversation the fastest.

“Are you sure?” she asks, scrutinizing him further. She watches him take in a deep breath before he nods.

“Check again, maybe you made a mistake.”

She doesn’t think so, his heart rate was definitely faster than what’s considered healthy unless he was—no, no. He's Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, there's no way she could make him as nervous as he makes her. Still, she checks again and has to admit that it’s beating considerably slower than it had been. She hums, keeping her thoughts mostly to herself.

“Odd, it’s beating at a much healthier rate now. Perhaps I did make a mistake, still, it’s something to keep an eye on. Be sure to let me know if anything changes.”

She scribbles more notes on the clipboard hearing him put his shirt back on and honestly, she isn’t quite sure which of them looks more relieved. That whole moment had been…odd, but she found she hadn’t disliked it quite as much as she probably should have.

She hears him move for the door, and stops him, “we’re not quite done yet, Your Highness,” she motions for him to sit back down, and he does so, face still fixed with a withering glare. What a sourpuss. She’s beginning to snap out of whatever daze she’d been in, shaking off silly thoughts.

He’s prickly. He’s cruel. _He’s Fire Nation_ , she reminds herself, _he’s repulsive._

She looks him over once more, looking for any cracks in his mask of indifferent annoyance as she grasps his wrist, pressing the stethoscope at his pulse point.

“And how is your mental health?” She asks.

His eyes lock on hers, she hopes she doesn’t flinch.

“What does it matter? You’re a medic, not a therapist.”

A spike in his heart rate. “Mental health is just as important as physical health. Have you been feeling stressed at all?”

Another noticeable pound against his pulse, “…stressed?”

The air around them is starting to warm like it had out in the hallway.

“You’ve been searching for the Avatar non-stop for quite some time now, you hardly allow yourself any time to de-stress or do activities meant for kids your age it’s perfectly reasonable for me to assume-”

She’s cut off by a growl, “ ’kids my age’? I’m not a child—You’re younger than I am.”

She tries to placate him, trying to stay calm and brave by moving on with the routine of questions, “Have you felt exhausted at all? Trouble focusing on simple tasks?”

“Do I seem weak or stupid to you?”

She shakes her head, continuing, “T-trouble waking up in the morning or falling asleep at night? Have you found yourself having moments of intense frustration or rage?”

“Do you think I have a rage problem?” His voice is rising, there’s steam emitting from his hands, “You have no right to make judgments about me, I am the prince of the Fire Nation, and you are lowly Earth Kingdom Scum,” he spits at her, the metal of the stethoscope touching his skin is heating up but she hardly notices as she attempts to placate him.

“They’re just questions-- I’m required to ask them in order to assess your mental state as my patient, I meant no disrespect, Your Highness-”

“I’m not your patient, you are not a member of my crew, you’re a prisoner. Learn your place-” his rage reaches a boiling point and the heat of the metal under her fingers suddenly spikes and she gasps. (y/n) recoils from him--she’d say, ‘as if he burned her’-- but actually, yes, that’s exactly what he did.

She’s clutching the fingers on her right hand, observing the damage. The skin is red and angry and—Spirits, it absolutely burns. Her whole arm is shaking, and she rushes to the sink to run it under the, fortunately, ice-cold water that the ship’s mechanism takes from the ocean and filters for drinking and washing.

She refuses to look at him as she’s afraid of what kind of rage she’ll see him in when she does, shaking both from the shock at being burned and from the sudden return of all the fear and apprehension she’d held earlier in the night. She senses him reaching out for her and she’s afraid she’s about to be struck. She flinches, rather dramatically, but could you really blame her?

The blow never comes. Instead, she hears heavy stomps moving away from her followed by the clinic door being thrust open and promptly slammed closed. Shuttering, she collapses against the sink. She thinks, perhaps, she was better off on the prison rig.

…

She sees him again, much too soon, at breakfast. Her gaze gravitates to him, and she realizes that he’s been watching the door, gaze now resting on her. His stare breaks before hers does, and his uncle is left sitting next to him looking back and forth between the two of them. She sits at the end of the farthest table from him, across from a non-bending soldier named Dao.

“Hey there, Little Miss!” he greeted jovially, something she responds to with a bit less energy.

“Good morning.”

The soldiers around her share a look with each other, watching her gingerly try to pick up her chopsticks with clearly bandaged fingers.

“You alright?” another one, Uke, questions.

“Yes, I just burned myself a little—it’s nothing major,” she assures, putting on a smile.

“Yeah right,” Dao again, “we were passing by the clinic last night and heard Prince Zuko yelling at you. I bet he’s the one who burned you. You have the patience of a saint, Miss (y/n), I swear; first, he makes you practically chase him down for a checkup, now this. Did he even apologize?”

She shushes them, looking over their shoulders to spot a reaction from the prince, but doesn’t see one. He has yet to look up from his breakfast, though he’s holding his chopsticks with seemingly white knuckles.

“You know he didn’t,” Uke grumbles, ignoring her warning, “Prince Zuko doesn’t apologize.”

…

That sentence is still running through her mind like a meadow vole on a wheel when Iroh visits her on her lunch break, having brought rice balls and primrose tea. She appreciates that he brought something she could eat with her hands so she didn’t have to fiddle with utensils, she was finding it difficult to even use a quill to update the prince’s medical file.

“My nephew is hot-headed, but he does not intend to be cruel.”

She looks up from her cup of tea at the comment, smiling ruefully, “have no fear Iroh, I do not think less of you for the prince’s actions.”

“That… was not my worry.”

Her smile widens, “I was the one at fault, anyway, I poked the sleeping platypus bear.”

Her companion seemed to have more to say, but he’s cut off by a knock at her door. She sets her mug off to the side and polishes off the last rice ball, her mouth full, muffling the sound of her inviting the person on the other side of the door to enter.

She bends down to put Prince Zuko’s file back in the cabinet, still chewing on the food in her mouth and when she straightens back up she nearly chokes on it, seeing the very devil himself in the doorway. She sputters and coughs as she finally, successfully, swallows; clutching her chest as the rice goes down painfully.

“Are you… alright?” she hears the prince ask.

“I’m just super. Peachy keen,” she assures, eyes fixed to his chest. Bad idea. She still remembers the feel of his broad chest under her stethoscope from the night before, but she can’t raise her eyes to meet his, that’s somehow even more mortifying.

Iroh gets up from his seat on the other side of her desk, taking his cup of tea with him to leave.

“I’m sure this is a conversation that’s meant to be private. I will leave.”

Iroh is keenly aware that neither of them want him to go. The idea of being alone in the room together is a wildly, suffocatingly, unbearable thought for both parties. He does so anyway, pausing only to rest a hand on his nephew’s shoulder to mutter, “Remember, Zuko, you can not spell ‘gentlemanly’ without ‘gentle’.”

A proverb the prince did not appreciate, but admitted, for once, that he had to heed.

(y/n) busies herself tidying her work station, placing bookmarks in pages, and stacking scrolls on top of tomes.

“How may I help you, Your Highness, have you been experiencing any more heart trouble?” she offers graciously.

She doesn’t know what to expect from this, but whatever her subconscious had imagined, this was not it. She looks back up to see he’s taken the seat his uncle had vacated, and he’s looking down at his feet, brows knitted together as if he were concentrating on solving an impossible equation.

“…I’ve been feeling… restless. Like I’ve been running in place forever. Uncle still has me running the basics in training when all I want is to move on and advance, and every moment spent standing still feels like a moment wasted. It’s been affecting how I sleep. Instead of resting, I find myself getting out of bed and training by myself in the middle of the night.”

She blinks, processing all of that. When she finally speaks, it’s slow and soft. Considering each word that comes out of her mouth.

“Thank you for your candor, Your Highness, I can understand where you’re coming from, but you need sleep. Your brain needs time to rest and recover, and I can’t say I can recommend training when no one is around to make sure you don’t overexert yourself. I have just enough herbs left to make you a sleeping draught, but that will only last so long unless we can find a more sustainable way to supply the clinic. Given what you’ve shared, I can assume you don’t want to hear this, but we might have to stop at another port soon.”

He nods, slowly. Seemingly also cherry-picking his words, acting much more cordial and polite than he had been the night before. She wonders if it might be Iroh’s doing, “What do you recommend?” he asks, meeting her eyes for a second before turning his gaze back to the floor, “to keep the clinic supplied, I mean.”

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I would recommend growing our own ingredients where we can. Spirits, I’d be willing to tend to them myself, but I can’t fathom where I’d find some of the plants we would need, let alone where I’d find the room to keep them in here,” she informs, pointing out the size of the room.

“Thank you…” he struggles out, before tapering off. It takes her almost a full minute to understand that he’s trying to ask for her name and she can’t decide whether she’s more bewildered that he cares enough to ask, or that in the scope of all the time she’d been on his ship he hadn’t even bothered to learn it. He really did have some nerve, asking her three whole months after she was tossed aboard his ship. Common courtesy would be to wait until someone dropped her name in conversation and pretend to have known it the whole time as she’d admittedly done for the lieutenant.

Instead of voicing this for fear of being yelled at or burned yet again, she simply bites a smile and tells him.

“(y/n). (l/n), (y/n).”

He nods, she assumes he’s pretending to store it in his brain when really, he’ll forget again in ten minutes, and fishes something out of his pocket to place on her desk.

A small brass key, she realizes.

“A doctor should have access to her clinic,” he states, leaving her just as bewildered as when he’d entered.

She picks up the key, cradling it in her palm for a bit. Her lips are quirking just a fraction of an inch as that one sentence repeats in her brain yet again:

_“Prince Zuko doesn’t apologize.”_


	2. Sins of the Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when it seems they're starting to get along...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I don't plan on ignoring Mei, like I've seen some fics do, because she's a boss bitch.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” comes a chipper call from a figure slowly coming into focus as they approach from the other side of the corridor.

“Morning,” He mutters back automatically. It’s only after the figure unlocks a door on his right and disappears into what he belatedly registers as the clinic that he stops in his tracks and realizes that he’s gotten morning greetings from their captive medic every day for the last week or so.

On its own that fact might not seem like much, but coupled with the context that up until now she’d been so quiet in his presence that he’d barely remembered she existed at all, it held a lot more weight.

And it wasn’t just that; she’d begun to seek him out, too. Asking after his wellbeing and checking to see if the sleeping draught had been working so she’d know if she’d have to adjust the recipe for him (she hadn’t needed to, it worked like a charm. He started putting two drops in the glass of water he drank before bed and slept like a rock every night since). She’d watch him train, too, sitting cross-legged next to his uncle, eyes diligent for signs of injury with a first-aid kit propped on her lap. He’d given her a weird look the first time. She’d rolled her eyes, “well it’s not like you’re going to come to see me if you get injured, so I might as well go to you.”

He’s seen her so often recently he’s started noticing things about her; like how she never misses a sunset, or that she always clutches her pendant when she’s nervous.

Or how she never addresses him by name.

It’s never ‘good morning, Prince Zuko,’ it’s always ‘Your Highness’ with her. It’s so impersonal. He hates that it bothers him, but more than that he hates that he spends so much time wondering _why_ it bothers him.

What bothers him more, though, is that her fingers still seem to be giving her pain. Yeah, he’s noticed that, too.

He’s trying not to notice it now, as she sits at the far end of the deck ‘watching’ him train. Her first-aid kit is open and ready just in case, but she’s not watching as intently as normal. A pair of reading glasses have slipped halfway down her nose and she hasn’t fixed them because she’s too focused on her struggle to flip the pages of the medical journal in her hands with her bandaged fingers. Something about the scene frustrates him, and he can’t exactly pinpoint what it is.

Is it that she claims she comes out to keep an eye on him in case he injures himself but isn’t even paying him a scrap of attention? No, that’s ridiculous. He’s a prince, what does he care if the dirt girl’s not looking at him? Maybe it’s the fact that he’s seen burns she’s treated before and knows her fingers should be mostly healed by now. That seems the most likely culprit, and yet he can’t mute the small voice in his head that posits that maybe what frustrates him is that he has the sudden, growing urge to walk over and fix her glasses for her, but knows how absolutely insane that would be for the prince to do for a prisoner.

It’s an intimate gesture to perform for someone who doesn’t even call you by your name, that’s for certain.

He turns around, forcing himself to focus on his opponent instead, using all his anger and frustration as he shoots fire from his hands and feet. It makes him feel a tiny bit better, but he’s only granted a minute or two before the entire ship tilts and he realizes their course has been altered.

…

A Lotus Tile.

His uncle turned the ship around and forced them to stop at a marketplace they’d already visited for three hours so he could find a Lotus Tile. He hadn’t even found one; the soldiers were carrying armfuls of trinkets back to the ship and not a single one of them was a stupid Pai Sho tile. No matter, Zuko had gotten something from the trip as well-- info on the whereabouts of the Avatar. Apparently, he and his little Water Tribe girlfriend stole a waterbending scroll from some Pirates-- _Pirates_.

Not his first choice in allies, but beggars cannot be choosers.

He’s impatient to get back to the ship; they’d wasted too much time already so when Iroh grabs his arm and stops him at yet another shop he’s fuming.

It’s a little hut that sells potted plants.

“Haven’t you bought enough today, Uncle?” He’s whining, he knows he is, but he can’t help it-- they just got a lead after wandering around without a clue for days.

“This is not for me, Prince Zuko, this would be for Miss (y/n).”

“(y/n),” he repeats flatly.

Iroh had asked if she wanted anything as they’d left the ship and she’d shook her head with a kind smile, explaining that the Plant Sages she’d studied under had no interest in materialistic things; “take only what you need, keep only what you must.” She’d said it as if it was something she’d heard thousands of times before.

It probably is, he muses.

“She said she didn’t want anything,” he snaps, trying to pull his uncle along.

“But she also said that the clinic needs supplies,” Iroh reminds, ignoring the clear impatience of his nephew and continuing towards the shop, “ the poor thing used the last of her soothing balm up before she could tend to her own burns. If only she had an aloe plant, she could alleviate her aching fingers.”

Zuko feels his eye twitch once, twice, three times…

They purchase several plants, each of which having been cited by their healer as something she used often when making remedies, or something his uncle insisted was used for healing in some capacity. Zuko knew he was most likely stretching the truth in order to procure himself plants for tea, but since he could not prove his uncle was lying, they were purchased anyway.

…

When they return to the ship, his uncle suggests they go and look for her so they can show her the plants. Zuko gives him a disinterested grunt, but Iroh simply drags him along, a knowing smirk on his face and an aloe plant in his other hand.

They find her rather easily, she’s leaning against the rail of the deck, laughing with a soldier; her smile bright even against the backdrop of the setting sun.

“It’s getting warmer, huh? Spring must be on its way,” she states, closing her eyes and feeling the ocean breeze against her skin.

“I wouldn’t say it’s warm just yet, but it’s definitely not as cold as the South Pole was. Glad we’re leaving that expanse of ice and nothing behind; whenever I spit off the side of the boat, it would freeze before it even hit the water.”

She wrinkles her nose, but the smile never leaves, “that’s gross, Uke.”

They both laugh, joking in a familiar way with each other and the prince feels himself growing more irritated. He turns on his heel, taking a step towards the engine room instead, “She’s obviously busy. I need to get the ship ready to start searching for the Avatar again.”

He’s taken one step when his uncle’s now even firmer grasp on his arm stops him. He has no choice but to be dragged even closer to the source of his annoyance.

“Miss (y/n), I know you said you didn’t want anything from the market, but look what we found,” Iroh greets her, holding the plant up to her.

Her eyes open to look at her new companions, and they shine when they see the plant. She gasps, rushing forward, the soldier that had previously been flirting with her-- or at least, from Zuko’s perspective he had been—is now completely forgotten behind her back.

“Oh, this is just what we need!” She takes the pot from Iroh’s hand, wrapping her arm around it and jutting out her hip to support it as her other hand comes to inspect the leaves. “This variety is non-toxic, too, which means not only can it be used in balms, but in consumable medicines as well like draughts, soups—”

“teas?” Zuko interrupts, shooting a glare at his uncle.

Iroh laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his now free hand.

Zuko’s gaze shifts back to the girl when she giggles, grinning right at him, “yes, and teas.”

“We brought several more plants back, and we managed to free a room on the ship to use as a greenhouse for them. We were about to leave the market, but Prince Zuko insisted we stop and buy some plants for the clinic.” Iroh speaks up, elbowing his nephew who’s cheeks begin to darken.

That is not what happened in any capacity, but he cannot get the words out to correct the story as (y/n) has begun to ramble.

“I know I informed you of my medicinal shortage, but I never expected you to actually listen to my concerns—let alone my suggestions. Thank you, Zuko---I-I mean, Prince Zuko—I mean,” she bows low, a bit of the dirt from the pot in her arms escaping and landing on the deck of the ship, “I mean, Your Highness.”

She’s incredibly flustered, a red hue overtaking most of her visible skin.

“…Prince Zuko is… just fine.”

She looks up then, seeming shell shocked, but soon she collects herself. A small smile returns to her face, lighting her features like the soft glow of a candle in a dark room, “Of course. Thank you, Prince Zuko.”

The way she says his name sounds sweet and warm. It reminds him of honey on fresh toast. He nods sternly and quickly turns away. He can’t waste any more time on the deck, he has an Avatar to catch and Pirates to double-cross.

As he leaves, he can hear Lieutenant Jee speaking with his uncle in a hushed whisper.

“General Iroh, are you sure it’s a wise move to give our plantbending prisoner—well, plants?”

“You worry too much, Lieutenant, she is an Earthbender on a metal ship filled with Firebenders in the middle of the ocean. What would she do? Where would she go? The plants will bring her comfort, some familiarity; she will be less likely to escape and more likely to heal our sick and injured if we treat her with kindness instead of mistrust and hostility.”

Zuko straightens. So, that was why his uncle was so adamant on him interacting with her. To get her to trust them. For a bit, he thought perhaps his uncle was trying to set him up with her, but no. That would be stupid, wouldn’t it?

Wouldn’t it?

…

It’s a few days later. He’s furious, but what else is new. The plan backfired as it often does where the Avatar is concerned, and he is left empty-handed—not to mention those Pirates will definitely hold a grudge.

He’s pondering his next move when he hears a female voice from behind a door he’s about to pass.

It has to be (y/n); she’s the only woman, and he recognizes the door as leading to the makeshift greenhouse. But who in the world could she possibly be talking to?

Hesitantly, he opens the door and is not at all prepared for what he finds. She’s talking… to the plants.

“Minmin, you’ve grown an extra inch since I last checked on you, look at you go—you’re blossoming! And Iroh Jr., how could I forget you? Did I water you yet today? Why don’t I fix that-” She turns to grab a spray bottle off the table behind her and lets out a sharp yelp when she spots Zuko in the doorway.

She blushes furiously and wipes her hands against the sides of her pants to get the dirt off them. When she finally starts to speak again, she’s sheepish and a lot less confident than she’d been mere seconds ago. “Prince Zuko, I didn’t hear you enter, I was…busy.”

He can’t help but tease her, “Are you and the plants planning a coup?”

She rolls her eyes, pinning him with a playful glare. Something he’s sure she wouldn’t have dared done in his presence mere days ago, but here they were now, sort of bantering. He feels his chest constrict just a bit and wonders if maybe she was right about him having heart troubles.

“If you must know, talking to plants is an essential part of their care. It helps them grow faster—gentle female voices do much better than grumpy male voices, so I’d keep my mouth shut right now if I were you.”

He frowns a bit, eyes narrowing. She notices and immediately begins to backtrack.

“That was out of line-- I’m sorry, Your Highness, I meant no offense I was just-”

“It’s fine.” He cuts her off, gaze moving from her to glare at the plants lining the wall. Each seemed to have grown a bit since the crew brought them aboard, and he can’t help but ask, “did you use your bending? To make them grow like this?”

She blinks, verbally tiptoeing around him now, not sure what to make of his current attitude, “No, this is all pure TLC,” she states. He can hear the pride in her voice even past the hesitance, “I guide their movements, but I don’t force them to grow faster than their natural rate. Plants are living things, like people and animals, and they must be respected as such. We must not twist them against their nature or force them to grow quicker than what’s natural if we don’t have to, it upsets the balance.”

Just like when he and his uncle were leaving for the market, what she says doesn’t really sound like her words. They sound like she’s reciting something she was told by someone else. He can almost picture her being a little younger, sitting under a tree in a forest somewhere being lectured using those exact sentences. He’s brought back by the continuation of her explanation; she’d taken a pause, and now her words sound a lot more like her own.

“Besides, forcing living things to mature unnaturally takes more than just a bit of Chi. It-it takes something from you, I’ve seen it. It’s not pretty.”

There’s a silence in the air as he tries to process what she might mean by that. It can’t be anything good if the troubled expression she’s casting at the ground means anything.

She shakes her head with a sigh and turns to spray the aloe plant she’d previously referred to as ‘Iroh Jr.’ before she moves her body subtly, moving her arms in a circular motion as if they were coiling snakes—or intertwining vines. To his astonishment he watches as the climbing vine of one of her herbs begins to unravel from where it had climbed up the pole of a shelf and extends towards her, takes the spray bottle from her hand and places it on a tall shelf before it returns to where it had been originally.

Zuko feels his whole form stiffen. He’d known she was a bender, and that she bent plants specifically, but seeing it—actually seeing it--he couldn’t look at her the same. He was suddenly acutely aware that they were alone, and that he was surrounded by plants she’d lovingly cultivated with her own hand.

She must sense his anxiety, his sudden alertness because she smiles; attempting to disarm him with it.

He refuses to acknowledge the fact that it’s working a little bit.

“Relax, Prince Zuko, I wouldn’t attack you—or anyone, for that matter, I’m a pacifist. All Plant Sages are. When I joined them and began to learn medicine, I took an oath as a healer to do no harm.”

He blinks, releasing the tension in his shoulders, but his fists are still clenched as his sides, ready for a fight.

“Meaning?” he asks.

She chuckles, rolling her eyes and fully facing him once more, “meaning I don’t use my bending for fighting, I don’t willfully cause bodily harm, and I won’t purposefully botch the medical treatment of a patient in order to hurt or kill them, no matter who my patient is.”

She says it so patiently, and so genuinely friendly. He doesn’t expect her reaction to be so hostile after his next words, but even as he’s saying them, he can see her expression darken.

“So then, when The Fire Nation captured you..”

She acknowledges his unsaid words bitterly, staring down at the table she had started to lean on, “yeah. We didn’t fight back. How do you think your soldiers captured all of us so easily?” She scoffs, folding her arms over her chest before she looks back up. “The Plant Sages have always been impartial. We would have been more than willing to help any of your injured as if they were our own, we meant absolutely no harm, and you stood nothing to gain except more prisoners by attacking us. You could have left us alone, but you didn’t. You imprisoned us-- _enslaved_ us and burned our forest to the ground.”

She blinks after that as if suddenly realizing something, “and this whole time I’ve been acting so friendly with you all.” She laughs, self-deprecatingly, “I thought I was only going to learn medicine while I was with them, but it seems their whole philosophy rubbed off on me.”

“That’s not fair,” Zuko defends sternly, “The crew on this ship didn’t play any part in your capture.” This is the first time he’s seen her close to angry, and though part of him wants to yell, to curse her for daring to speak out of turn like she is, another part of him wants to placate her; to make her not so suddenly upset with him.

“But you did though, didn’t you?” She challenges, “You’re Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, and this is your ship. Whether you like it or not, you represent the whole Fire Nation and its armies, and you carry their sins on your back as well as whatever ones you personally have.”

He can’t take this—he won’t take it. He allows her to roam his ship free as a bird, he lets her break bread with his crew, he gives her the key to the clinic as well as all the plants she could possibly want, and this is how she treats him? This is how she, an Earth Kingdom peasant, treats him, the Prince of the Fire Nation. His hands are smoking, and he growls something as he leaves. “Don’t let my father hear you say that.” Before he knows it, he’s slamming the door behind him, scorching it slightly in the process.

…

She doesn’t show up at dinner that night, and the crew informs him that the meal left outside her door remained untouched and grew cold.

He passes her in the hallway the next morning as she’s opening the clinic.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” She greets.

Her voice is flat.


	3. The Storm Before the Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know what time it is, it's time to Get Sad for Zuko.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I haven't updated anything in so long, it's the Pandemic Depression for me.

There’s going to be a storm, she can tell. When she’d been in the forest, she’d learned very quickly how to tell that it was going to rain; the Sages relied on their senses to be able to prepare cover. She can smell it in the air, and she’s sure if she had her feet in the grass, she’d be able to feel it in the earth. It’s going to be a bad one.

Still, she says nothing to the crew about it. She’d been distant with everyone since her pseudo argument with the prince. Dao and Uke had tried to get her to joke with them like normal, and Iroh still visits her on lunch breaks, but she just isn’t as approachable as she used to be and no one seems to know exactly why, but they’d all correctly assumed it had something to do with Prince Zuko.

Even the Lieutenant, who had always been wary and vocal about his displeasure at her being allowed to roam around seemed to be attempting to bolster her more talkative nature, as he’s accompanied her on her morning walk around the ship before she opens the clinic for the day.

Neither of them feels amazingly comfortable around each other, and they don’t have much to say, but still, she appreciates the gesture.

She feels a little guilty for suddenly shutting everyone out without giving a reason, but she reminds herself that she is a prisoner, and they are her jailors; she shouldn’t feel guilty. But she does. She’d read in a psychology journal that was now tucked away on the shelf in her office that sometimes, captives developed a bond with their captors in order to survive. Perhaps that’s what she’s feeling now.

She thinks this as the Lieutenant is still talking about the lovely weather they’re having. She doesn’t respond due to her preoccupation, but that seems just fine with Lieutenant Jee, he continues to ramble aimlessly at her while looking like he’d rather be talking to anyone else.

They’re just emerging from below deck when she hears the angry yelling she’s become familiar with for the past four or so months, “The safety of the crew doesn’t matter.”

She raises her brows; she can’t say she’s surprised to hear him say such a thing but still, it affirms that she made the right choice by distancing herself from him.

From beside her, she can practically feel the glare Lieutenant Jee is sending the prince’s way, and she’s sure the prince feels it too because he begins to march towards them.

“Oh Spirits, here we go,” she mutters to herself, crossing her arms and looking out towards the ocean to her right. She tries to keep her face straight, but inside she’s freaking out. She’d diligently avoided being around him since she’d yelled at him (much like she had at the beginning of her stay on the ship) as she feared she was due for some form of punishment and now here he was mere meters from her, angry as ever. Even if it wasn’t purely directed at her, it could easily shift her way.

He gets right up in Jee’s face, “finding the Avatar is far more important than any individual’s safety.”

She tries her best to not roll her eyes into the back of her skull and finds herself failing. Instead, she scrunches her eyes all the way closed and refuses to open them. She can feel his burning gaze on her now. The Avatar was just a kid, and the poor boy is constantly harassed and attacked by an entire nation of human flamethrowers, including a hot-headed narcissistic prince who hunts him like a Shirshu. Honestly, you’d think Prince Zuko would have better things to do than chase a twelve-year-old around, but apparently not.

He storms off soon after, and Iroh assures them that he hadn’t meant it, saying he was just ‘worked up’.

 _Sure,_ she thinks, _but when is he not?_

…

She’d been in the clinic when the argument broke out between Jee and Zuko, but she’s hearing about it now as Dao attempts to drag her from the greenhouse to drink and gossip and play cards in the hold with the others.

“You really should have heard him, (y/n), he let the prince absolutely have it. He even called him out on whatever it is he did to you, and he doesn’t even like you that much.”

She sighs, moving her upturned palm back and forth rhythmically, watching the leaves of one of her plants sway.

“I don’t care if he sang my praises from the top of the crow’s nest, I just don’t feel like going down and talking right now.”

“So, what? Are you just going to sit here and make your parsley dance all night?”

“This is mint, actually-”

“You’ve been in a funk for almost a week now. Your mood is so heavy it’s going to make the ship sink. Just come down for a half-hour, I promise you’ll feel better.”

She shakes her head, smiling faintly. She likes Dao—and Uke, too. They were like the older brothers she never had. But since her revelation, whenever she started bantering with them she’d remind herself that if Dao and Uke been stationed somewhere off this ship, they could easily have been in the squadron that had captured her and the other sages and wouldn’t have thought twice about burning their home to the ground. It’s why she forced the smile down and furrowed her brows. As if the plant sensed the change in her energy, it begins to bend and droop, but only for a moment.

Dao interrupts her bending rather abruptly with an, “alright, Dirt Girl, you leave me with no choice,” before he’s picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Despite her comical yelp and her kicking and her pleading to be put down, she isn’t released until he’s brought her below deck.

…

By the time they reach the hold, (y/n) has resigned herself to her fate and stopped struggling. She instead props her head up in her hand as she rests her elbow on Dao’s back. Entering the compartment where the soldiers usually go to relax and talk outside of the Prince’s earshot, she hears the men cheer at their arrival.

“I know we all call her Dirt Girl, Dao, but she’s still a lady; quit carrying her around like she’s a bag of soil,” Uke jokes from somewhere behind her.

“Don’t antagonize the prisoner, men,” she hears the Lieutenant scold half-heartedly as she’s plopped down into a chair as gently as her kidnapper could manage and handed a cup of tea that she silently and begrudgingly sips on.

Another crew member chuckles, “oh, so now she’s ‘the prisoner’ again? And here I thought you were starting to warm up to her, what with the way you yelled at Prince Zuko about ‘the way he treats his hardworking crew and poor Miss (y/n)’.”

Lieutenant Jee scoffs, taking a swig of his drink, “I’m just sick of taking his orders, and I’m tired of chasing his Avatar. I mean, who does Zuko think he is?”

She knits her brows together, feeling the unprecedented urge to defend him, though she isn’t sure why or how she could even do that, given the circumstances… though the more she thought about it, the harder it was to really pin down what was so bad about her circumstances so far; aside from technically being a prisoner, she wasn’t exactly treated like one for the most part.

She was snapped from her thoughts when she heard General Iroh’s voice echo from where he’d appeared at the top of the stairs. “Do you really want to know?” he asked Jee so ominously it made the circle of crew members around the fire stiffen.

“General Iroh! We were just-“

“It’s okay. May I join you?”

“Of course, sir,” Jee welcomed, offering Iroh a seat beside him.

He had a grave expression on his face, one so unlike the kind, knowing grin (y/n) was used to seeing. She was transfixed, silently waiting for whatever he had to say as she watched him from across the flames of the fire pit they were circled around.

“Try to understand, my nephew is a complicated young man. He has been through much.”

It was then that Iroh told them the Prince’s true story. His ‘disrespectful’ concern in the war room, the Agni Kai, his own father scarring his face, his banishment from the Fire Nation…

It was too much-- she felt too much; too much sympathy, too much guilt, and frankly, much too much affection towards the Prince she was all too happy to write off mere hours ago as an unfeeling warmonger like his father… she’d compared him to _his father._

She shuttered, clasping a hand over her mouth to smother guilty sobs. She feels someone put a hand on her shoulder, she doesn’t look to see who, but she assumes it’s Uke considering he was sitting to her left. She shakes off his hand, not trusting herself to be able to listen to the end of Iroh’s monologue without fully breaking down.

She stands from the stool she’d been perched in and leaves her now empty cup where she’d been sitting as she marches her way up the stairs and out of the hold. Air, she needs some air.

(y/n) makes it about halfway down the main hallway before she hears lightning strike the ship. She’s sent tumbling into the wall but pulls herself steady just as the Lieutenant and the rest of the crew rush past her towards the deck. The ship rocks violently back and forth, and though she’s been on the sea for many months, she has never had to endure waves this rocky before. She unsteadily follows the rest of the crew out to the deck, keeping a hand on the wall to steady herself, and arrives outside just in time to see Jee and the Prince bringing the helmsman to safety from his position in the crows' nest. He’s lowered to the deck and instantly passed off to her.

She’s told to take him to the clinic to check for injuries, and she only takes a second more to watch in awe as Prince Zuko allows the Avatar--the one thing he’s been obsessed with for the entire time she’s known him-- to go free in favor of getting his crew safely out of the storm before she turns, and does as she’s told.

…

It’s almost midnight, and she’s knocking on his door. She’s almost sure he’s asleep, and even if he’s not, there’s a good chance she’s knocked too softly for him to hear so when he opens the door, she’s more than surprised.

“You heard me knocking?”

“No.”

“O-oh,” she stutters, fiddling with the note in her hand, “Then how’d you know I was out here?”

“Saw your feet under the door again.”

She looks down at her aforementioned feet, rocking forward on them a bit, “right, duh. I kind of thought you wouldn’t be awake.”

“I ran out of that medicine you gave me, so I haven’t slept very well lately.” He informs bluntly.

She blinks, looking up at him with exasperation, “You didn’t think to come and ask me for more?”

He’s looking away then, most likely at something off in the corner of his room, “I thought about it.”

Silence falls over them like a wet blanket, heavy and suffocating. She’d written out an apology-- she’d planned to just slip it under his door, but something had compelled her to knock first, and now here they were. She thought for a second about just shoving the piece of paper at his chest and running off, but no, that’s not very brave, or even close to the type of apology he deserves. With a deep breath, she pockets it and looks back up at him.

“I wanted to apologize. For everything. I spoke thoughtlessly, and ignorantly, and from a place of misguided rage and that was unworthy of me. Of course, you had nothing to do with my capture, I was just frustrated because…because I’d joined the Plant Sages so I could travel and see things, and when we were captured, I thought I’d be stuck on that prison rig forever and that I’d never be free to live my own life.” She’s trembling as she speaks, and she knows there are tears welling up in her eyes, she can feel their sting, but she doesn’t care. “And so now I want to apologize, because not only did I take my anger out on you, I also completely disregarded everything you and the crew have done for me. You all have treated me like one of your own, and while I’ve been with you, I’ve seen more of the world than I ever thought I’d get to-- even if it is just from the deck of the ship. Yes, I’d rather be free, but I understand that I’m lucky and that I’m in a much better position than many of my fellow sages.”

She stops talking and once again the awkward silence creeps in. She can feel her anxiety climbing up her throat when finally, Zuko speaks.

“… how is our helmsman doing?”

She smiles weakly. He’s accepted her apology, she can tell, “He’s good,” she affirms, nodding enthusiastically, “he’s a bit bruised, but I think the adrenaline in the moment kept him from feeling most of the pain. He should be alright to return to his duties tomorrow.”

And like that, all the tension is lifted, but it’s still just as awkward, “I’ll uh, I-I can start working on another sleeping draught, it should be ready for you the day after tomorrow.”

“Ok.”

He begins to shut the door for the night, and she smiles to herself, knowing that’s about as close to a ‘thank you’ as she’s going to get.

“Good night, Prince Zuko.”

She says it softly as she turns to make her way to her own quarters. She doesn’t hear the reply, but still, it’s said.

“…Good night, (y/n).”


	4. Emancipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this one gets a little rough. The chapter after this isn't gonna be much really, it's more like a bridge into a part I'm actually really proud of, soo I'll probably try to get it out quick so I can post the part I like.

Once again, she finds herself knocking on the Prince’s door, but these days, it doesn’t fill her with so much dread to do so. She, in fact, finds herself almost looking forward to conversing with him. It’s just after dinner, and though Zuko often chastises his crew when they disturb him during this time, he seems never to mind when it’s her.

He opens the door with a sour look that she’s become all too familiar with and finds herself holding back a grin.

“Let me guess, Uncle sent you to check on me again.”

She giggles softly, “Sort of. He asked me to remind you that it’s music night tonight; he tells me you play the Sungi Horn beautifully.”

He groans, “I play a little, but I have no interest in participating in music night. It’s stupid, and a waste of time.”

“Now I wouldn’t say that. I think it’d do you some good to make an appearance.”

He raises an eyebrow at her in disbelief, but she ignores it as she continues, “remember what I said during your physical about mental health being important? I really think it’d do wonders if you allowed yourself to act your age for a bit.”

He scoffs.

“I’m serious; cut loose, have a bit of fun. Just for the night. You can go back to pouting first thing in the morning.”

“I don’t pout,” he argues, poutily.

“No, right, sorry. Princes don’t pout, do they? They brood.”

His frown grows deeper, but she isn’t worried about stepping out of line anymore. She no longer feels on edge in his presence, nor does he blow up at her like he used to. He simmers, sure, but that’s just his default setting.

“Goodnight, (y/n).” He dismisses, attempting to close his door again, but she stops it, pushing herself against the cold metal.

“Promise me you’ll at least stand in the corner and listen—or do something other than train and pace—doctor’s orders. I’m prescribing you fun, Prince Zuko, you need to learn to relax or your brain is going to fry like an egg.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” She hears as she’s forced back into the hall with the door now fully shut. She could have sworn he almost sounded amused, but it must have been her ears playing tricks on her, she’s sure.

…

It’s a beautiful night. (y/n) has her eyes closed as she sits on the deck, listening to the crew’s rendition of Four Seasons. She thinks it would sound better with a Sungi Horn. As the first verse ends, the song abruptly stops, and she opens her eyes just as she feels strong hands on her shoulders. She’s being pulled up and behind some of the soldiers and her eyes follow the gazes of her fellow crewmates to see just what had stopped their merriment. General Zhao and his fleet had boarded their ship.

The last time he’d boarded, she’d hid herself away in the clinic and hadn’t come out until she’d been assured he was gone. She remembers her time under his imprisonment vividly.

As Zhao and Iroh disappear farther into the ship to assumedly speak with Prince Zuko, the rest of the crew—both from the ship as well as those under Zhao’s command remain on the deck, silent and almost stone still.

A chill runs over (y/n) as the sea breeze picks up, but she doesn’t dare try to warm herself, too afraid to draw any sort of attention.

When they return, she feels her stomach drop.

“We’re planning an invasion of the Northern Water Tribe. We are going to need every able-bodied soldier we can gather, which means you are now all under my command; soldiers and staff alike,” Zhao informs, looking around the ship and taking stock of the crew on board.

“Oh, and we’ll need extra medical help as well, so I’ll be taking that prisoner back, too. Where are you keeping her?”

(y/n) hears herself gasp, clutching at her pendant as she backs further away from the imposing General, but all that does is catch his attention. He eyes her with a sneer and takes a step forward. A few of Zuko’s men move to intercept him, but with a single warning glare from Zhao, they’re frozen in place.

He nods in her direction, and two of his own soldiers move forward, grabbing her and forcing her to the ground.

“What are you doing?” She hears the familiar bark of the prince, but she can’t look up at him, her head is being forced to the ground, cheek pressed firmly against the cold steel of the deck, her arms pulled behind her and put in braces.

“What kind of ship are you running, Prince Zuko? You let your prisoners just roam about your ship as they please?” She hears Zhao mock, “although, I can’t say I blame you,” suddenly she’s being yanked up into a sitting position by her hair, “She is very pretty.”

She’s shaking. She can’t tell if it’s fear, or rage, or a mixture of the two, but she’s shaking. Wild eyes look around the ship searching for assistance, but everywhere she looks she sees gazes cast at the ground, refusing to look at her as she’s dragged up towards the other ship.

Finally, her eyes meet Zuko’s and he’s absolutely livid. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him this angry, teeth gnashed, nose scrunched, eyes practically aflame. In fact, she’s sure the only thing keeping him from attacking Zhao with everything he has is the iron grip his uncle has on his shoulder.

Iroh’s face is almost the exact opposite of his nephews; it’s neutral, practically no expression at all, but she can still see the cold anger in the ex-General’s glare.

(y/n) doesn’t get to focus on them long, as she’s tossed on to the new ship carelessly and she hits the ground with a yelp, hearing a few of the men that now surround her chuckle darkly. She struggles to stand up on her own and manages to get to her feet before the same soldiers that had forced her to the ground before grab her by the arms and start to drag her below deck. She struggles, turning in their grip, desperately searching for the prince’s eyes once again. When she finds them, she keeps his gaze, pleading and panicked until she’s dragged out of his sight.

…

It’s been just over three days now, she thinks, and she knows they’re close to the North Pole only because they don’t bother to heat the area of the ship they’re keeping her in and it is absolutely freezing.

Metal bracers encase her hands, chaining her to the wall of the cell and chafing her wrists. They’re meant to keep her from bending, they claim, but what exactly does she have to bend? She’s let out to eat of course, and when an injury pops up that their main doctor doesn’t feel is worth his time, but that doesn’t happen often.

Dao and Uke had been assigned the duty of bringing her food, which meant that she was at least given a hot meal and not just scraps like some of the other soldiers might give her. They had kept her company as best they could, but she didn’t engage with them often. She felt betrayed, in a way. They had just stood back and let them chain and cage her. She understood there wasn’t anything they really could do, but it still hurt to remember how they refused to look at her as she was manhandled off of Prince Zuko’s ship.

She can hear them whispering to each other now as they approach the bars of her cell.

“I’m not very hungry tonight,” She lets out weakly.

Their whispering stops, and Dao finally speaks loud enough for her to make out what he says, “well, that’s good to hear because you’re not supposed to get dinner for another half hour.”

She furrows her brows, looking up to watch Uke unlock her cell.

“Then what are you…?”

“The attack is going down tonight. In the chaos, I doubt Admiral Zhao would notice if, say, a lifeboat went missing.”

“When he does notice,” Dao adds, dropping a pack seemingly full of supplies at her feet with a grin, “I bet that boat and whoever’s on it will be long gone.”

She feels her heart begin to pound in her ears, and Uke is gingerly lifting her arms to release her from her chained position. She looks between the two men, “I don’t—if they figure out you’re freeing me, do you realize how much trouble you’ll be in?” she hisses, almost unwilling to believe that after all this time she might actually be breaking free.

Dao just continues to smile at her, “We’re not freeing you. Right now, we’re training with Lieutenant Jee and the entirety of Prince Zuko’s former squadron, and not a soul among them is going to claim anything different.”

Once the bracers are off, she rubs at the tender skin on her wrists, but not before grabbing the pack and hauling it over her shoulders. She can feel tears pricking her eyes.

“We can’t be seen helping you, so you’re on your own from this point. Do you think you can manage?”

She nods quickly, hugging them both; not trusting herself to say another word and knowing she’ll never be able to thank them enough.

“One more thing,” Uke tells her with a conspiratorial smirk, “I found something that I think might belong to you, Dirt Girl.”

He’s holding her pendant by the coarse string it hangs on, the translucent quartz swinging almost smugly. The soldiers who had originally brought her down to the cell had confiscated it, convinced she could have used it as a weapon somehow.

She takes it back from him gingerly, placing it back around her neck with a bittersweet musing: _I suppose I’ll never be rid of you, will I?_

…

She had only stalled long enough to watch Uke and Dao make it back down the hall before she began to move. She stuck to the walls, peering around every corner and trying her best not to get lost in the maze of corridors. Though the design was very similar to the ship she’d been staying on, this one was much larger and significantly more complex to navigate, and it wasn’t as if they posted maps in the hallways that told her ‘you are here’. Growing frustrated, she doesn’t pause before turning a corner and freezes when she comes across three soldiers at the other end of the hall.

“…Isn’t that…?” one of them mutters before she takes off like a rocket in the opposite direction.

She can hear enraged shouts of “Stop!” and “Get back here!” and she runs faster, feet pounding against the ground. She trips, catching herself with the palm of her hand, using it to push off the ground and gain momentum back, only to run face-first into someone’s chest.

This someone staggers, but catches her and holds her easily with one arm. She struggles and struggles, but all at once she hears the stranger that’s caught her speak, and she stops.

He says her name, and she knows instantly who it is.

“…Prince Zuko?” she splutters, looking up. Sure enough, he removes the faceplate from his helmet and puts a finger to his lips, urging her to be quiet. She doesn’t obey, instead whisper yelling at him in a frenzied panic.

“What are you doing, are you insane? Does Zhao know you’re here?”

“I could say the same to you,” he says, almost annoyed at her indignant tone, “how did you-”

He’s cut off by the angry yells of approaching soldiers. She whips her head in their direction, her fear forcing her farther into the prince’s hold. In an instant, he releases her to instead grab her by the hand and pull her down a branching hallway.

“Stop!” she hears from a rapidly approaching soldier, “She went this way, get her!” calls another.

They continue to run until Zuko stops abruptly, yanking open the door to what she vaguely registers as a water closet. He pulls her in with him, closing the door as quickly and quietly as he can manage.

The soldiers charge past their hiding spot and in her alarm, she buries her face in Zuko’s chest, clutching at his back and breathing heavily.

“They’re gone,” he informs after a beat, and sheepishly she steps back, freeing Zuko from her grasp as she instead clutches her pounding heart. She’s rather glad the closet is dark so that her flushed cheeks aren’t on full display.

He carefully peers into the hallway before he fully steps out from the closet and motions for her to do the same.

“How did you escape?” he questions, making it sound almost like an accusation.

“Dao and Uke,” she explained. At his confused expression, she elaborated, “two of the soldiers that were under your command. The way they talked; it sounds as if they might still be loyal to you.”

“I can’t take that chance.”

“I’m not saying you should; approaching them would only get them in trouble. They’re already sticking their neck out by setting me free, I can’t imagine what would happen if they were caught helping a stow-away prince.”

There’s silence as they both think about their next course of action.

“Are you planning on getting off the ship once the invasion starts?” she finally asks.

“I am,” he confirms flatly.

“Would you mind taking me with you? I’d feel much safer being accompanied out of here.”

He doesn't say anything for a full minute, he simply looks down at the floor with a hard stare.

“I’m sorry, but no. You’ll just get in my way.”

“The Avatar’s here, isn’t he? That’s why they’re invading.” It’s a statement, not a question, but he nods in confirmation anyway.

She lets out a shaky sigh, moving to peer around the nearest corner. A week ago she probably would have loathed him for leaving her to fend for herself just to track down the Avatar, but now, after everything she's learned, she can't bring herself to be upset about it.

“I understand. I wish you luck, my prince.” She says in farewell.

She doesn’t fully realize what she’s said, but Zuko does, and he feels his heart pound against his chest, just the one time, but it’s enough to send him spluttering.

“I’m not-” he immediately protests, before looking up from the ground to where he expects her to be, but she’s already gone, disappeared down the hallway towards what she hopes is freedom.

“…Your prince.” He finishes his sentence, words heavy on his tongue.


	5. I put this off because I was stuck a little bit, and my friends had to bully me into working on it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't as good as I would like it to be, but it moves past a plot point so I can continue

When the moon went dark, that’s when she made her escape. The fighting had taken a turn for what she could tell, and everything outside the city’s walls is silent. Eerily silent. Something isn’t right, but (y/n) doesn’t have a clue as to what that something is. The ocean’s still, like liquid glass, barely even stirring as she paddles her way through the crumbling walls of the Northern Water Tribe. As she moves through the canals, she can faintly hear the sounds of fighting still going on around her and does her best to avoid getting too close to the noise, gawking at the destruction and rubble. Why does the Fire Nation feel the need to destroy every beautiful thing that does not belong to them? It must have been just gorgeous here before the other night.

With a modicum of effort and very little grace, (y/n) manages to climb her way out of the raft and onto the solid ice of the city. So, she’d made it this far, now what? It wasn’t like she could stay here in the water tribe, not after all of this. They’d never believe she’s an Earth Kingdom Escapee, they’d clock her as a Fire Nation spy in a heartbeat. She had no desire to be drawn and quartered in the iced-over town square. She definitely couldn’t turn around and re-board a Fire Navy ship; no, no. She thinks she’d rather die. According to Zuko, the Avatar was here. If she could find him, perhaps she could barter a ride. If he was here looking for someone to teach him water bending, then soon he’d need an earth bender. Her talent with bending raw earth was unpracticed and unrefined, but she could possibly make up for that with her skill at plant bending. Depending on his perspective, her unique talent could be invaluable. It would be rough, teaching the Avatar to bend without breaking her oath, and Spirits, where would she even find him in all this mess-- but what other choice did she have?

As she pondered her choices or lack thereof, she noticed a bright blue glow emanating from the highest part of the city she stopped and gawked as a giant creature made of water descended on the invading armies. She ducked behind a building, catching her breath as she did her best to hide from the creature, not entirely sure whether it would attack her if it spotted her. She could hear her heartbeat thundering in her chest. “Spirits, guide me, was that the Avatar?”

It had to be, right? She hadn’t really ever put much stock into the boy before-- she pitied him for sure, being so young and tasked with the job of defeating the fire nation and all, but she truly didn’t have much hope for him succeeding; she’d been living under the Fire Nation’s thumb for so long, and she’d seen just about the worst they were capable of—but if the kid had that kind of terrifying power, maybe things weren’t as hopeless as she’d led herself to believe. Body still thrumming with nerves, she did her best to sneak away and keep out of sight, but eventually, she found herself beginning to hear the echoes of a fight still in progress despite the awesome creature pushing back the Fire Nation to the brink of retreat.

(y/n) was about to duck away and avoid the scene, but a distinct and familiar voice drew her ever forward. Rushing around the corner just in time to see Zhao and Zuko locked in battle. She watched on as behind her the moonlit the sky behind her, and in the instant she turned away to watch it, a ghostly hand emerged from the water grabbed Zhao, and began to pull him into the water.

She gasped, turning back around when she heard Zuko call out to him, offering his hand and in that moment, she rushed from her hiding spot not entirely sure what she was planning to do, but she knew if Zhao took the prince’s hand, he’d drag him down into the water, too.

Fortunately, it seemed like her worry was for nothing as Zhao refused to accept his help, disappearing into the depths of the canal without a trace. “Spirits above,” she heard herself breathe.

Zuko turned to her then, acknowledging her presence with a bit of astonishment, “you made it out, then.”

“I did,” she stared out at the horizon, watching as the sun began to peek out from beyond the retreating Fire Navy, “granted, it wasn’t easy, I felt like my heart would give out any second the way it was pounding, but I’m relatively calm, now.”

He followed her gaze, glaring out at the water, “I had him in my grasp, but I got caught in a snowstorm. No matter, I will capture him someday.” He didn’t have to clarify; she knew who he was talking about. She felt she could translate the prince’s words fairly fluently now; she knew he was attempting to apologize for not helping her escape in the relative safety of his company.

“I know you will.”

He turned to watch her profile. She sounded so confident, and it left him feeling warm as if he’d suddenly started to lose control of the way he was bending his body temperature, but that wasn’t quite it, it was something else.

Suddenly, she turned and locked eyes with him, and he felt like he’d just been caught doing something he shouldn’t be, but he couldn’t look away; the determination in her eyes matched her confident tone, and it was mesmerizing.

“however you plan to return to civilization, please, allow me to accompany you; I know you said I’d get in your way, but I promise you, I won’t. I’ll do everything I can to keep from being a burden, and once we find ourselves at a port or a town, we can part ways if you like but please, Prince Zuko, allow me to stay in your company for a bit longer, I don’t think I can leave here on my own.” She bowed, feeling a little bit silly, but she refused to back down from this. She truly, truly did not have any other option at this point, it would be impossible to find the Avatar in all this mess and next to impossible to convince him that she was not, in fact, a fire nation spy, but someone who could ostensibly teach him to bend.

A small part of herself whispered that another reason she couldn’t go with the Avatar was that it would put her on the opposing side of Zuko, and the thought of it irked her, but she shushed that small voice when she heard him scoff lightly.

“Do whatever you like, just don’t get in my way,” he’d turned and began to walk away. (y/n) looked up at him, slightly taken aback by the pink tint she spied on his cheeks for the split second before his back was fully turned to her. He wasn’t…?

No, she reasoned, it was simply the cold of the South Pole nipping at his cheeks is all.

He stopped at the other side of the bridge just before the staircase to look back at her, “Well are you coming or not? I don’t have time to wait for you to catch up. We need to find my uncle as quickly as we can, I don’t think it’d be the wisest idea to be here when the sun starts to rise.”

(y/n) snaps out of her stupor, jogging to catch up to him with a grin.


End file.
